


The Wake Up Call

by tasabian



Category: Smallville
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 05:18:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155555
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tasabian/pseuds/tasabian
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clark has been missing for six weeks. Martha Kent believes Lex Luthor is the only person who can find him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Wake Up Call

There is no pain, no fear. There is no sense of time. Perhaps this is death, he isn't sure. All he sees is white but then he can't tell if his eyes are open or closed. Thoughts float though his head, leaving no footprint behind. Under the white, Lex waits.

Until a sound: A crack that hurts his ears, accustomed to silence. Lex's world splinters around him and there's a face hovering above. He knows that face but the name eludes him for a moment. She is speaking to someone, hair falling across her cheek.

"Kara?" His voice doesn't work, just a rusty whisper comes out. He tries again. "Kara?"

* * *

There is an interlude of being lifted, gently prodded. Lex closes his eyes. Everything is too bright.

"I can't explain it," says a voice. "But he's fine. In perfect condition. It's as though time pressed pause on him."

* * *

"You've been missing for six years," says Martha Kent. "Assumed dead."

"That was my assumption as well," says Lex. There is a mug of tea in front of him and he is sitting in, of all places, the Kent farmhouse kitchen. Stranger still, he is wearing Clark's clothes; a sweater and jeans that are too big for him.

"I should have known to trust Clark's instincts," says Martha. "He's told me more than once over the years, he had a feeling you were alive. He went and searched for you. I told him to let it go. "You can't save everyone, Clark."

"My last memory," says Lex, "is confronting Clark in some sort of ice castle and the walls falling in on us both."

"I enlisted Kara to find you because, like you, she was once taken over by Brainiac," says Martha. "I had a hunch that might help her locate you, that there might be a tiny echo of Brainiac left for her to draw on."

"Brainiac kept me alive," says Lex. Oddly, this realization has just now come to him. "In cold storage."

"You've come back to a changed world," says Martha. "Since you've been gone, there have been two clones that assumed your name and place. One was animated by a version of your father, a Lionel from a different dimension-"

She is watching Lex closely but Lex can't summon up any reaction to this news.

"Both the clones have since died," says Martha. "So, to the world, Lex Luthor is dead."

Lex says:

"Why wouldn't you want to leave it that way? I would have thought, Mrs Kent, you'd much prefer to leave me buried under a league of ice."

Martha doesn't flinch:

"Perhaps I would, Lex. But right now I need you."

"For what?"

"To rescue Clark," says Martha.

Clark. Lex tries to process this.

"Where is he?"

"I don't know," says Martha.

"How long has he been missing?"

Slight shake of her hand on the tea cup. Lex notices that her red hair is now mostly grey.

"Six weeks, Lex. Six weeks."

* * *

Doctor Emil Hamilton is nervous and for the first time since his "awakening", Lex feels a faint stirring of amusement. Hamilton says:

"Mrs. Kent asked me to brief you on the case-"

"Why me?" says Lex. "As I recall, you had a close working relationship with Oliver Queen. Why isn't he the designated rescuer?"

Hamilton picks up a pen, sets it down again.

"He tried but-"

"But he wasn't up to the job?"

"Oliver - Mr. Queen - resides in Star City now," says Hamilton. He presses his lips together.

"Hmmm," says Lex. "And what of Clark's circle of devoted girlfriends: Lana, Chloe, Lois Lane?"

Slight spark behind Hamilton's glasses.

"The ex-Mrs Luthor has returned to leading a normal life in an undisclosed location. Ms Sullivan resides in Star City-"

"Interesting," says Lex.

"And Lois Lane has used her status at the Daily Planet to promote the search for Clark and the other missing people-"

"Others?" says Lex.

"Clark was the twelfth, and the last, to vanish," says Hamilton. "All the missing people had one common element: they all interacted with a man named John Dee in the hours before their disappearance."

"Eleven ordinary humans – and Clark?" asks Lex. "His abilities didn't shield him from whatever this John Dee can do?"

Hamilton shifts uncomfortably.

"Look, I haven't forgotten about Clark," says Lex. "It was the last information to enter my brain before I went under the ice. I won't pretend I don't know about his powers."

"Yes," says Hamilton. "Eleven citizens of Metropolis - and Clark,"

"Has John Dee been questioned?" asks Lex.

"He's in custody," says Hamilton. "But he won't speak, not to anyone. That's why….Mrs. Kent thought he might speak to you, out of vanity."

"Vanity?" asks Lex, genuinely puzzled.

Trace of a smile on Hamilton's lips.

"Since your "death", Lex, your reputation has only ascended. Or perhaps I should say "descended." John Dee may see you as…a model of super-villainy to which to aspire."

Lex thinks this over.

"All right,' he says."Take me to him."

"Are you sure, Lex?" Martha Kent is standing in the doorway.

"You brought me back from the dead," says Lex. "That puts me in your debt."

"That all depends on whether or not you want to be back," says Martha.

* * *

And that's the nub of it, isn't it? Lex sits in the back of a limo, looking at his hand on his knee. Outside it's raining; workers are taking down Christmas decorations.

Lex feels nothing. Not pleasure at being alive nor rage at being alive. He wonders if his emotions were absorbed into the ice and left behind in the Arctic. He doesn't object to seeing John Dee because there's absolutely nothing else that he wants to do.

* * *

He's expected at the prison, somehow Martha has arranged that there is no astonishment at seeing Lex Luthor back from the dead, no Jimmy Olson waiting to snap his photo.

"We keep Dee in solitary," says the Warden. "He creeps out the other prisoners. Just sits in his cell, rocking and grinning. I can't see you'll get much out of him."

"Perhaps not," says Lex.

"There will be guards in the interview room with you, just in case."

Lex sits on a plastic chair; declines a cup of machine coffee.

John Dee is perp-walked into the room by two guards. Lex assesses him: slight build, dark hair, mid-thirties. And unmistakably pleased with himself. Dee is led to the chair across from Lex, bows his head slightly and says "Mr. Luthor."

"You know me?" says Lex.

"Only by the reputation of your…several incarnations. I'm a fan."

"I can't return the compliment," says Lex. "I've never heard of you until today."

"I'm a work in progress," says John Dee, showing a brief flash of white teeth. "I make people disappear – haven't you heard?"

"Nothing extraordinary about that," says Lex. "My father spent a lifetime doing it."

"Ah, but my methods are unique and my results unduplicated."

"Or you just talk a good game," says Lex softly.

Dee's smile fades.

"It's not wise to doubt me, Lex. As others have found, to their cost."

"Those were ordinary people. I doubt your tricks will work on me," says Lex. "I'm notoriously unsusceptible."

"Is that so?" says Dee. "That sounds like a challenge."

Lex shrugs.

"Always room for one more," says Dee. The guards exchange a glance, put their hands on their guns but Dee doesn't move a muscle. He begins to hum: a faint, circular tune that Lex has to strain his ears to catch.

"That's it?" says Lex. "That's the show?"

"Merely the overture," says Dee. To the guards, he says "Take me back to my cell."

He throws one last amused look at Lex as the doors close behind him.

* * *

Martha had insisted on Lex returning to the farm house, to remain under Dr. Hamilton's supervision.

"I'm fine," Lex points out. "Dee did nothing to me."

"Or it hasn't kicked in yet," says Hamilton. "Remember, none of the others disappeared until several hours after their encounter with Dee. One man vanished from his office; a teenaged girl disappeared from her own bedroom. These were all regular people, with no prior history with Dee."

"Where was Clark when he disappeared?" asks Lex.

Hamilton looks at Martha.

"He was here," says Martha. "In the barn, repairing the roof. When I went out to call him for dinner, he was gone but I just assumed he'd rushed off to help someone in trouble."

"How did Clark cross paths with Dee?" asks Lex.

"Dee had worked at a decommissioned laboratory, involved in some shady experiments," says Hamilton. "Clark was doing a story on the disappearances-"

As Hamilton speaks, the wall behind him is blurring. Lex blinks.

"Are you all right, Lex?"

Martha's voice, but her face is receding.

"Whatever is supposed to happen" says Lex. "It's happening now."

He hears Martha say something else but her voice is fading away as well. The walls appear to be dissolving.

 _This feels like falling asleep_ , thinks Lex. _But I'm not sleeping; the people vanish, so I must be vanishing too. Where am I going?_

New walls are materializing around him, walls bearing purple and grey paper. There's a bay window, stained glass.

"This is the Metropolis house," says Lex, aloud. It doesn't exist any more. Lionel sold the house when Lex was twelve; it was bull-dozed and condominiums built on its site.

"Lex!"

Lex turns, and jumps, because Lionel is standing behind him. Not Lionel as he last remembers him, the Lionel from his childhood, angry and looming.

"Lex, your mother tells me you were out of bed three times last night."

"I had nightmares," Lex remembers this fight.

"Son, only the weak let their baser consciousnesses control them."

"And so as a corrective, you're locking me in the cellar tonight," says Lex. "I remember. I was terrified. I cried all night."

The memory feels ancient, leeched of its sting. An old leaf pressed between the pages of a dusty book.

"I don't need to listen to you," Lex says. "You're in the past."

He pushes past Lionel and walks through the door….

…And into a new room: it's his study in the Smallville manor. Lana is crouched by the fireplace. She doesn't look up.

"You don't know how to love anyone, Lex," she says. "I should never have married you."

Lex can faintly remember how much this had hurt, at the time. But all he can think of now is how young Lana looks.

"You shouldn't have married anyone," he says. "You were a teenager, with no idea what you wanted. You were using me and I was using you – we were victims of each other's sublimation-"

Lana vanishes, along with the room. New walls materialize: Lex's dormitory at Excelsior.

"Oh, I understand how this works," says Lex. "It's a "Greatest Hits of Nightmares." You land in a nightmare and then get stuck in a loop."

"Luthor, you freak," says a tall boy entering the room. One of the Bullies of Excelsior: Lex can't even remember his name now, just a vague echo of the terror he used to hold.

"That tune John Dee hummed at me must be a form of delayed hypnosis," Lex tells the Bully. "It puts people into a dream state, traps them..."

The Bully vanishes, along with Excelsior. The Smallville study re-materializes.

"But where am I?" says Lex. "I'm dreaming but I'm not in the farmhouse any more. I've gone somewhere."

"You'll always be a disappointment to me, son," says Lionel's voice from behind him.

"Yeah, yeah," says Lex. "I left the old traumas under the ice, Dad. You can't touch me now. I don't care."

And he walks through the study door….

….into a bright, suburban backyard. There's a yellow house, a swing-set, a sandbox.

I've never been here before, thinks Lex. This is not one of my memories or nightmares.

There's a tall man, standing stock still near the corner of the house. At least, he appears to be still but as Lex draws closer he can see the man is trembling.

"Are you all right?" asks Lex.

The man turns, face rigid with terror, finger at his lips.

"Shhhh….you mustn't talk or the monster will find us. It's right around the corner. Do you see that shadow?"

The man points to a long jagged shadow on the paved path.

"That's its claw."

"So, run away then," says Lex.

"I can't!" says the man, pointing at his feet, which are rooted to the ground.

"Fascinating," says Lex. "You know, being chased yet unable to run away is one of the most common anxiety dreams. It's probably a dream that's recurred for you since childhood. Is this your childhood home?"

The man looks puzzled.

"Yes. Yes it is. I don't live here any more."

"I believe the way to end this dream is to go around the corner and see what the shadow actually is," says Lex.

The man shrinks back.

"We can't, the monster will get us."

"I'm rather a connoisseur of monsters," says Lex. "I'm curious to meet yours. Come on."

The man closes his eyes but reaches out his hand to Lex. Surprised, Lex takes it.

"Three steps and we're around the side of the house," says Lex. "Okay?"

"Okay," says the big man, sounding all of five years old.

I'm going to look like an idiot if there really is a monster there, thinks Lex.

"One step…two….three…open your eyes."

"It's the shadow of the lawnmower!" says the man. A dawning realization on his face: "And this is just a dream."

He vanishes, his hand dissolving from inside Lex's.

"Cue a change of scenery, I'm guessing," says Lex, as suburbia blurs and fades around him.

"Don't open the door!" says a small voice.

Lex blinks: there are spaceships on the wallpaper, model planes hanging from the ceiling and a small boy in pajamas crouched on the bed.

"What's on the other side of the door?" says Lex.

"A shark," says the boy. "And there are spiders outside the window."

Lex walks to the door - "don't!" says the boy – opens it and yes, that's a shark. Massive shark filling the hallway. He walks to the window – "I _told_ you" says the boy – and behold, spiders. Huge dinner-plate sized spiders.

"You've got a healthy catalogue of night terrors," Lex tells the boy. "Too much Discovery Channel. What's your name?"

"Shaun."

"I’ll tell you Shaun, I happen to know the best way to defeat sharks is," Lex glances around the room, "-tennis balls. No shark can withstand more than five consecutive tennis balls."

Shaun is wide-eyed:

"Really?"

"I'll open the door, you throw the balls," says Lex. "Aim for the teeth."

The shark is gone at ball three, which is the same moment Shaun starts laughing.

"The spiders are gone too," says Lex. "Pity. I had an idea about using dirty socks in a catapult-"

"You aren't afraid of anything, are you?" says Shaun, staring at him in fascination.

"No," says Lex. He's dimly aware that this may not be a good thing. "I left my fear behind in the ice-"

Shaun is already starting to vanish.

"Along with all the other emotions," Lex finishes quietly.

Goodbye bedroom, hello…steam?

"You lost us the game," says a girl's voice, accusingly.

"She always does," says another girl.

"Oh, you gonna cry now?" says a third.

Lex emerges through the steam and into a locker room filled with – oh – half-dressed teenaged girls. The target of their rage cowers at the back.

"She's such a loser," says the first girl.

Lex sighs. He remembers having Excelsior versions of this dream. He walks over to the crying girl.

"Hello…"

"You can't be in the girls' change room!" says an outraged voice behind him.

"Are these girls you actually know?" says Lex. "Or nameless dream hybrids?"

The crying girl lifts her face, eyes puzzled:

"Where'd you come from? This isn’t how the dream goes…they insult me and then throw dodgeballs at me until I fall down."

"We're breaking from routine," says Lex. "Now, do you know any of these girls in waking life."

"Just her," says the girl, pointing a shaky finger. "Caitlin."

Lex folds his arms and faces a scowling blonde.

"Caitlin. I'm going to posit that in the real world you are jealous and insecure. Your life will peak in high school because you won't be able to control adults the way you can bully other girls. And this girl you're harassing," – he puts a tentative hand on the bare shoulder next to him – "has advantages you don't. She's clever, for one. Already figured out she's stuck in a dream. I predict a great future."

"Really?" says the girl beside him. She lifts a tear-stained face to his.

"Absolutely," says Lex, and is astonished to find himself locked in a sudden, and likely illegal, embrace. As the lips fade from his, he hears the girl say:

"But I don't want to wake up NOW-"

"Three down," says Lex.

He's not displeased that his next dream is set in a bar. The dingy room holds at least thirty people; he can't tell which one is the Dreamer. Lex saunters up to the bar to get his bearings.

"I think I've figured out what John Dee is doing," he tells the shaggy-haired man next to him. "He's created a pocket dimension and is able, through hypnosis, to move people into it. And the clever part is, they furnish and populate the space with their own nightmares."

The shaggy haired man pays Lex no attention. Not a real person; just a dream prop.

"But sustaining this dimension must be taking a huge toll on Dee," says Lex. "And each time someone wakes up and is released, I would assume his hold gets more tenuous. It's a matter of waiting him out-"

"Well," says a voice. "Thanks for a fun time but I should be going."

Lex stiffens. He knows that voice. Broad shoulders and spiky blond hair walking to the door….which instantly vanishes and is replaced by a solid wall of brick. The shoulders slump, turn around and-

"Oliver," Lex hisses.

They didn't tell him. Of course, they didn't tell him. Martha would know exactly how he'd react at being sent to rescue Oliver.

Oliver stares at him, equally aghast.

"What the hell are you doing here, Luthor? Haven't I killed you enough?"

So that explains the fate of at least one of the clones. Lex folds his arms and prepares to enjoy himself. Might as well make the best of it.

"To be clear, Oliver: you murdered me…but your nightmare is being trapped in a tacky bar? Could you be any more prosaic? Or is there more to come? Will we find out any minute that the bar is also out of hair gel?"

"Shut up, Luthor! I used to have a drinking problem!" says Oliver. His face changes. "Wait – this is a nightmare? You mean I can just wake up?"

And he's vanished before Lex can even finish his drink.

"Good riddance," says Lex.

He's knocking off nightmares like bowling pins now, explaining Freud's theory on water symbolism to a man who dreams he's drowning, rescuing an older woman from being attacked in the shower a la Psycho and convincing a man trapped in an elevator that he can open the door by singing "I Will Survive."

The most memorable dream belongs to a woman with red hair. Lex follows her down a busy street as strangers bob and weave around them.

"Why don't any of these people have shadows?" Lex asks her.

The woman nervously grips his arm.

"Because their shadows are on the inside – look at their mouths."

Lex inspects the next mouth that passes: a plume of black shoots out, then retracts.

"They're the ones you can't trust," whispers the woman. "They can take on any form, any personality, but they're hollow inside."

"That's a great premise for a story," says Lex. "Or a graphic novel even. Have you thought about writing it down?"

The woman stops:

"I have, actually. But if it's only a story…then this isn't real, right now?"

"This conversation is," says Lex, as both the woman and the street vanish.

She was the eleventh missing person. There is only Clark left.

Lex is standing on the slope of a hill, in the burning sun. He can hear voices in the distance. Presumably he must follow the voices to get to Clark. As he climbs, his feet feel heavy – Lex senses some apprehension rising in him, the first small thrum of emotion he's felt since his return. He's not sure he wants to experience Clark's nightmare; he doubts if Clark will want to see him.

At the top of the hill, there's a sharp turn around a sheet of rock. Lex edges along and gasps at the vast canyon in front of him. Chasm might be a better word. A sheer drop down – even though Lex knows it’s not real, he still averts his eyes.

In the centre of the canyon, there is a narrow outcrop of rock. On this tiny island, a crouched figure sits, draped in red.

"Clark?" says Lex.

His voice bounces round the canyon, startlingly loud. The tiny figure doesn't move but seems to bury his head in his hands.

Lex tries again:

"Clark!"

More echoes, no reaction from distant Clark. Lex sighs. He knows what he has to do. There's a narrow thread of rock running between the cliff and Clark's island. He will have to walk it like a tightrope.

"Damnit,' whispers Lex, and the whisper travels around the canyon like a gust of wind.

Okay. He can do this. There are no actual stakes involved because this is a dream. One step at a time: looking ahead to his destination, not down at the chasm below.

But what if he falls? What if he falls and wakes up, leaving Clark behind? It dawns on Lex that he is not afraid of falling, he's afraid of letting Clark down. Again. Terrified of it.

"One step at a time," says Lex, aloud, and plants a shaky foot on the ridge.

_Distract yourself; don't think about the fall. Analyze this dream. Why is this scenario so frightening to Clark? Is it the isolation, being the last of his kind, far from his home world?_

Lex is halfway across the chasm when the voices begin, echoing from every curve of the canyon.

_"Save me, Superman."_

_"Where is he? Why won't he help us?"_

_"HELP ME, I'M DYING."_

_"Why won't Superman come?"_

_"PLEASE."_

As each voice speaks, Clark hangs his head lower. Lex is beginning to understand.

Just a few steps to go. A blast of wind nearly sends Lex plummeting. Lex closes his eyes, stands very still, and waits it out.

"You won't take me out that easily, Mr. Dee," says Lex, as he steps onto Clark's Island.

Tremendous relief to have made it. This was the hard part surely? But then Lex makes the mistake of glancing down and the endless drop below him, knocks the breath out of him, and brings him to his knees. He can only whisper:

"Clark-"

Small sound from Clark. It might be a sob.

"Clark, this is only a dream," Lex tries. He doesn't dare look at Clark because he daren't look up, or down, or anywhere but at his own knees. His childhood fear of heights has returned with a vengeance.

"I'm so sorry, Lex. I'm so sorry I couldn't save you."

Something in the tone of Clark's voice strikes Lex. Unlike all the other dreamers, Clark isn't surprised that he's here. That must mean that Lex plays a recurring role in Clark's nightmare. It's not an encouraging thought.

"You're not dreaming me," Lex says. "I'm here, Clark. Back from the dead again."

He still doesn't dare look up but he reaches out and touches Clark's back.

"I failed you," says Clark miserably. "I keep saying it but that isn't enough –"

More voices echoing round the canyon:

_"Where is Superman?"_

_"Why won't he help me?"_

_"SAVE ME."_

"SHUT UP!" Lex shouts at the voices. "He can't save everybody."

As his shout bounces off the distant cliffs, Lex realizes what he needs to say:

"Clark, it wasn't up to you to save me or to fix me. You rescued me over and over, breathed life back into me. But you were just a boy and no match for Lionel. He was determined to destroy me, and he did. That wasn't your battle, Clark. I know you tried. And you owe me nothing."

The chasm voices have fallen silent. Tentatively Lex lifts his head and discovers Clark has done the same and is staring at him.

"That's not what you usually say," says Clark.

"That's because I've door-crashed your dream," says Lex. "Your nightmare. You want to save everyone, every single person in the world, and that's not possible, even for you. So you dream of the unsaved and you carry that burden."

Clark's eyes are locked on his.

"I came here to rescue you, Clark. I got arrogant because I thought my fear was gone, that I didn't care about anything any more. But now I need your help. I'm afraid of losing you again because I care about you more than anything else in this world and I always have-"

Lex can't quite believe he is saying this. But Clark is listening, really listening.

"If you still want to save me, Clark, save me now. Save us both. Get us out of this nightmare."

He sees the change in Clark's face. Clark rises to his feet, cape billowing behind him; he bends down, wraps an arm around Lex and leaps straight into the air.

Lex buries his face in Clark's shoulder. He says:

"Is the flying part of the dream or can you really-"

And all at once they're landing with a crash in a pile of hay.

One would have to have a heart of stone not to be moved by Martha's cry of "Clark!" Clark runs to her, while Lex extricates himself from the hay. Hamilton offers him a hand.

"The others?" says Lex.

"All home," says Hamilton. "All unharmed."

"And John Dee?"

"In intensive care," says Hamilton. "He appears to have suffered a massive aneurysm."

"How long was I gone?" asks Clark, still held tight in Martha's arms.

"Six weeks," says Hamilton. Clark's eyes widen. He opens his mouth:

"It's all right, Clark," says Martha. "We're okay. The world's still here."

Clark shakes a stalk of hay from his hair.

"The Daily Planet….Watchtower….I have to," he looks around apologetically. "I have to-"

And then he's gone in a blur.

"Well," says Martha. She smiles at Lex. "He'll be back, to say a proper thank you. But for now, I will, Lex. Thank you for bringing my son home to me."

She leans up to kiss his cheek. Lex feels a blush rising, something that hasn't happened to him in a very long time.

"Emil, I'll drive you back to Metropolis," Martha says. "I think I'll stay over at Clark's apartment tonight, get it ready for him."

"I should be going too-" says Lex, and then thinks: go where? Does he still have an apartment somewhere; is there a corporation still to run?

"No," says Martha, firmly. "Stay here, Lex. I insist on it. You need time to reacclimatize, out of the public eye."

Hamilton says:

"She makes a good point – some of the people you rescued have already talked about meeting a Lex Luthor look alike in their dreams. You'll be back in the headlines by tomorrow."

Lex struggles with his instinct to distrust kindness.

"Thank you, Mrs. Kent" he says. "I'm happy to accept your hospitality."

As Martha's car drives off, Lex recognizes the magnitude of the gesture – to be left alone in the farm house, trusted. Something he could never have imagined. Martha has even left a photo album on the kitchen table. Lex pours himself a glass of juice and flips through the pictures. Clark aged about five, on a tractor. Young Clark dressed as….an elf, dwarfing everyone else on the stage including his teacher.

There was a time when this album would have represented exclusion to Lex, images of a happy family he could never attain. But now, they are just photos. He smiles at a photo of Clark in a cowboy hat, then turns the page and freezes.

It's a photo of Clark and Lex in the loft, unaware of the camera. Lex takes the photo out of the plastic sleeve, studies it. The photo shows Clark in profile, listening intently. Lex is talking, one hand in motion and his face…

I was so obvious, thinks Lex. The love writ large across my face. No wonder the Kents were suspicious of me.

All at once, he's very tired. Lex closes the album and walks to the couch. A quilt and pillow ease him into a mercifully dreamless sleep.

* * *

A noise wakes him: the fridge door opening. Lex sits up.

"Sorry," says Clark, through a mouthful of bread. He's wearing a t-shirt and pajama bottoms.

"Your mother insisted-" says Lex.

"She told me," says Clark. "I agree – I think it’s a good idea for you to lie low here a bit. Want some toast?"

A serving of toast, to Clark, means three quarters of a loaf. Lex accepts two slices, and slathers on some honey. It tastes fresh and new to him, like tasting it for the first time.

"Oliver sends his thanks," says Clark.

"Really?"

"No," says Clark, and grins slyly at Lex. "But he did grudgingly acknowledge you rescued him."

The photo album has fallen open to the page with Clark dressed as an elf. Clark says:

"Not one of my finer moments. Mom and Dad insisted I be in the Christmas Pageant because it was an easy way to fit in, without constantly hiding my abilities…I was already five foot ten in the fifth grade. Man, did I hate that costume."

"I think you carried it off fine," says Lex.

Clark smiles. Lex is astonished how easy it is to sit at a table together, to talk, as though the passage of years has sealed over old wounds. Clark says:

"I missed you. Thought about you every day. Went looking for you but obviously didn't look hard enough."

"I was well-hidden," says Lex.

"Those imposters that wore your face, the clones" says Clark. "I –"

He stops, Lex says:

"They're gone now."

"I'm still sorry I couldn't stop it happening," says Clark. "Back then, I mean. That I couldn't recognize what Lionel had done to you, was doing, the full extent of it. I had…a taste of his parenting firsthand in another dimension. A small taste, but it was enough."

"I'm sorry too," says Lex. "For everything. I had choices; I made bad ones."

It's surprisingly cathartic to say it, to look into Clark's eyes and mean it. Clark puts his toast back on his plate.

Then he leans across the table and kisses Lex.

Clark's lips are sweet with honey. He cups Lex's cheek with his hand. Their noses bump and Lex's chair wobbles on the wooden floor, possibly because he's shaking.

Clark is in no hurry. It's a long kiss, tender. Lex isn't sure if it's the thump of his own heart he's hearing or the tick of a distant clock. Perhaps he's dreaming; if so, he will happily live out the rest of his life in this dream.

"Lex," says Clark. Lex opens his eyes

"Do you want to go up to bed?"

Outside Clark's window it is crisp and cold, stars piercing through a navy blue sky. In Clark's bed, it is warm. Lex sits cross-legged and watches Clark undress. Clark is still bashful, there's a flush on his cheek as he pulls off his pajama pants. Then he helps Lex out of his sweater, clumsily undressing him until they're lying side by side, skin to skin.

"I thought about you in this bed at least a thousand times," says Clark in Lex's ear.

"You did?" Lex is genuinely surprised. "I mean, I thought about you constantly but I didn't know-"

"I never told anyone," says Clark. "Until now."

They kiss, long and languorous. Lex buries his hands in Clark's hair, then buries his nose, breathing in Clark's scent. Clark kisses Lex's throat; nips once, a tiny bite of ownership.

"Can you lie on your back?" asks Lex and Clark allows himself to be rolled over. Lex kisses his mouth, sucking on Clark's lush bottom lip until Clark wriggles impatiently below him. He cups Clark's cheeks and kisses his eyelids, the long lashes fluttering gently against his mouth. Clark has one hand on Lex's back; his other hand creeps up and squeezes Lex's ass. It's Lex's turn to wriggle and Clark laughs.

Lex kisses his way down Clark's chest. He discovers that Clark has sensitive nipples; he wriggles and moans when Lex licks them, his cock hardening against Lex's stomach

"I'm going to suck you," says Lex. "And then I'm going to ride you."

Clark bucks his hips in response. Lex settles between Clark's legs, hand on Clark's hips. He drapes Clark's legs over his shoulders and licks and kisses the soft inner thigh skin until Clark yelps.

He wants to take his time with Clark's cock. Tease the slit with the tip of his tongue; lick the shaft and the balls. But Clark is babbling now, the comforter clenched in his fists, so Lex takes pity and wraps his mouth around the most beautiful cock he's ever seen.

"You taste amazing," he tells Clark, who whimpers in response and gently puts his hand on Lex's head to guide him back down.

Lex pulls off when Clark is just a few thrusts short of orgasm. Clark whines.

"I know," says Lex, petting his hip. "I know. But I want you to come inside me. Okay?"

Clark, flushing and breathing hard, nods furiously.

The Kent bathroom cabinet doesn't disappoint; there's the Vaseline on the second shelf. Lex returns to the bed, straddles Clark's thighs and slicks Clark's cock.

"Are you ready for me?"

Clark answers by clasping Lex's hips.

"Nice and slow, at first," says Lex. "You're big. I have to get used-"

And then he loses all language as the tip of Clark's cock presses inside him. Clark takes over. He has to hold Lex upright because Lex feels like his skeleton has turned to hot jelly. There are fireworks behind his eyelids and, and-

Nothing. There is nothing except the pulse of Clark inside him, big hands on his hips, Clark's eyes burning into his.

"Lex, I'm going to-"

Clark's heat spills into him. Lex arches back, is caught by Clark and then comes himself, splattering Clark's chest, marking and claiming him.

They lie together in silence for a while. It's starting to hail outside, icy pellets skittering across the window pane. Lex's head is on Clark's shoulder, a quilt is wrapped round them both.

"Because I missed Christmas," Clark says. "Mom wants to celebrate in January. She still has a turkey in the freezer. We can have a very belated Christmas dinner, you and me and Mom."

Clark squeezes Lex's hand.

"It won't be a very traditional Christmas but that in itself is a Kent family tradition. Weird stuff happens, we make the best of it. We adapt. "

Lex feels his eyelids growing heavy. When was the last time he fell asleep in someone's arms? He can't remember. And anyway, it was never like this: Warm, safe, content.

"We could even put up a Christmas tree," says Clark. His laugh rumbles through Lex. "A "two weeks too late" Christmas tree. What do you think?"

"I think it will be the best Christmas I've ever had," says Lex.

And he means it.

**Author's Note:**

> John Dee is borrowed from a creepy episode of the animated series "Justice League."


End file.
